A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick






55. THE APPARITION OF HIS, MISTRESS, CALLING HIM TO ELYSIUM

     DESUNT NONNULLA—

     Come then, and like two doves with silvery wings,
     Let our souls fly to th' shades, wherever springs
     Sit smiling in the meads; where balm and oil,
     Roses and cassia, crown the untill'd soil;
     Where no disease reigns, or infection comes
     To blast the air, but amber-gris and gums.
     This, that, and ev'ry thicket doth transpire
     More sweet than storax from the hallow'd fire;
     Where ev'ry tree a wealthy issue bears
     Of fragrant apples, blushing plums, or pears;
     And all the shrubs, with sparkling spangles, shew
     Like morning sun-shine, tinselling the dew.
     Here in green meadows sits eternal May,
     Purfling the margents, while perpetual day
     So double-gilds the air, as that no night
     Can ever rust th' enamel of the light:
     Here naked younglings, handsome striplings, run
     Their goals for virgins' kisses; which when done,
     Then unto dancing forth the learned round
     Commix'd they meet, with endless roses crown'd.
     And here we'll sit on primrose-banks, and see
     Love's chorus led by Cupid; and we'll he
     Two loving followers too unto the grove,
     Where poets sing the stories of our love.
     There thou shalt hear divine Musaeus sing
     Of Hero and Leander; then I'll bring
     Thee to the stand, where honour'd Homer reads
     His Odyssees and his high Iliads;
     About whose throne the crowd of poets throng
     To hear the incantation of his tongue:
     To Linus, then to Pindar; and that done,
     I'll bring thee, Herrick, to Anacreon,
     Quaffing his full-crown'd bowls of burning wine,
     And in his raptures speaking lines of thine,
     Like to his subject; and as his frantic
     Looks shew him truly Bacchanalian like,
     Besmear'd with grapes,—welcome he shall thee thither,
     Where both may rage, both drink and dance together.
     Then stately Virgil, witty Ovid, by
     Whom fair Corinna sits, and doth comply
     With ivory wrists his laureat head, and steeps
     His eye in dew of kisses while he sleeps.
     Then soft Catullus, sharp-fang'd Martial,
     And towering Lucan, Horace, Juvenal,
     And snaky Persius; these, and those whom rage,
     Dropt for the jars of heaven, fill'd, t' engage
     All times unto their frenzies; thou shalt there
     Behold them in a spacious theatre:
     Among which glories, crown'd with sacred bays
     And flatt'ring ivy, two recite their plays,
     Beaumont and Fletcher, swans, to whom all ears
     Listen, while they, like sirens in their spheres,
     Sing their Evadne; and still more for thee
     There yet remains to know than thou canst see
     By glimm'ring of a fancy; Do but come,
     And there I'll shew thee that capacious room
     In which thy father, Jonson, now is placed
     As in a globe of radiant fire, and graced
     To be in that orb crown'd, that doth include
     Those prophets of the former magnitude,
     And he one chief.  But hark!  I hear the cock,
     The bell-man of the night, proclaim the clock
     Of late struck One; and now I see the prime
     Of day break from the pregnant east:—'tis time
     I vanish:—more I had to say,
     But night determines here; Away!

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